


Togetherness

by cruisedirector



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry, Auror Ron, Bisexual Male Character, Community: contrelamontre, Crushes, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, Post-Deathly Hallows, Purebloods, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-21
Updated: 2010-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco wants them both, but they keep overlooking him. Fortunately, he has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karelian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karelian/gifts).



> This story started out as a fragment for a contrelamontre challenge (some readers may recognize two lines from an old improv). It sat on my hard drive for a long time; then I posted it in a different fandom to get it out of my hair. Gloria Mundi convinced me to take another look at the ending. This is Take Three, Remixed.

Every day, at least twice a day, I find myself in the middle of Potter and Weasley. But not the way I imagine later on when I've gone home. 

I'm not sure when this obsession started...maybe when The Chosen One saved the world and my family along with it, something I'm sure he didn't think my father deserved. Even so, unlike Voldemort, whom we all could see in the end was a selfish lunatic, Potter knows when to let go of a grudge. He still doesn't trust me -- he begged the Ministry not to let me become an Auror after the things I'd done -- but the Ministry thought I would make a perfect poster boy for them now that I'm supposedly reformed. And my father still has influence that not even The Chosen One can do anything about.

At least Potter likes me better than he once did, now that I've saved his arse more than once, pointing out people he'd never have known were Death Eater sympathizers and showing him some magical shortcuts that Snape taught all the Slytherins of my year. From what I've heard about Sirius Black and the so-called Marauders, I bet Potter's overrated father would have approved of the magical shortcuts as long as a sodding Gryffindor and not a Slytherin was using them. That's the way it works. What that oaf Dumbledore would have praised as a clever innovation from a Gryffindor got labeled as dark magic if a Slytherin did it. It's pathetic, but until I'm old enough to sit on the Board of Governors, there's not much I can do about it.

Anyway, Potter has saved my arse more than once too. The last time, when I swallowed veritaserum that Weasley had convinced himself was a harmless glass of whisky, Potter got us both out before we could give away any Ministry secrets to that gang of werewolves who won't take their bloody potion like good little lycanthropes. Unfortunately Potter didn't realize I'd been drugged, so he didn't stop asking me questions until I'd said way too much about the things I'd like to see him and Weasley do to each other. No way, no way could they not have noticed how much I wanted it. Them. Harry. Ron. Both.

But it's a game to them, using me for protection so they can pal around together without it getting scary. I'm not sure when I first noticed them studying each other from opposite sides of the Great Hall -- not, of course, at the same time, they try to do it when the other won't see -- but it was long before Potter's disastrous attempt to date Weasley's sister or Weasley's horrible hookup with Granger, who'd be with someone much more deserving, like me, if it weren't for Merlin knows what she sees in him. My father may mutter that she's a Mudblood, but I have plenty of evidence that she's smarter than my father and Potter and Weasley all put together. You'd think she'd be smart enough to notice that she's like an invisible shield in the middle so Potter and Weasley can spend every waking moment together. It's just like when they're with me. They look at me and talk to me so they can count on each other not noticing how they're mooning over each other.

It's too quiet, and I'm about ready to suggest that they go fuck each other just to see what will happen. Instead I settle for saying, "Ten points from Gryffindor," and they both jump and get shifty when they look at me, not even realizing they're wearing the same expression. Potter's all dark and intense and Weasley's so flushed his freckles stand out. Whatever's brewing there, it must be serious for them to be so afraid of it. I just want a little bit of it. Them. Harry. Ron. Both.


	2. Chapter 2

I've known all along that Weasley will be easier, even though I'm not sure he'd admit that he likes men, whereas Potter has never cared who thought he had an itch for Wood or Diggory or me. But Weasley gets drunk more often, and he gets sloppy whenever he does. "Come out to the Leaky Cauldron?" I ask him, so he agrees, with just a little glance at Potter to see if he's paying attention. Sadly for him, Potter isn't. "You too, Harry," I say, all friendly, and he nods too, but he's brooding. I can tell that he'll come long enough to be sociable and then go off and sulk that he can't ask his best friend to marry him. Perfect.

Sure enough, Potter leaves after one round and Weasley whines a little and has three more right away. I sit next to him and poke him in the ribs and make him laugh, and make sure I don't have too much. I also get my hand all over his thigh under the table, but he thinks I'm just playing around and doesn't bother to push it away. He and Potter have this obnoxious attitude about Slytherins, as if whatever we do doesn't matter because we have no principles. Whereas, if they did it, it would count.

I have some very rare, very expensive pipeweed that I convince Weasley to wander outside and smoke with me, even though he mutters about how Hermione will lecture him if she smells it on his clothes. We're around the back before he's even paying attention. I push him up against the wall and kiss him, and at first he laughs through it. "Draco," he says, like he's trying to be the adult here, but he's too drunk to be taken seriously. Then he gets a little annoyed and stops laughing. "Enough."

"I haven't even started," I protest. He lets me get in close and nuzzle his throat, but he responds more like he's ticklish than like it's turning him on. "Relax."

"You're drunk."

"I want to suck you," I tell him.

"Let's go back inside."

"Not until you let me." I press right up against him and he squirms, putting his hands on my arms to shove me off him, but he's not really fighting. He's kept in shape for Quidditch so his sister can't show him up during friendly family matches, and he's pretty strong, even drunk, so I know I don't have long to press my advantage.

"Harry let me suck him," I whisper. His hands slip on my shoulders and for an instant he's completely still, staring at me. I can feel the energy shift as he goes from fighting me to fighting himself.

He hisses, "Harry did not." But his voice catches on the high note of the first syllable.

"Did too." I've got him now. He's sweating, and he can't close his mouth. I lean in and he doesn't react in time to stop me from grinding my hips into him. Ooh, he's got quite a bone to pick -- with Potter, I'm sure, but Potter's not here and I'm going to take advantage of it. Weasley renews his efforts to free himself, but he moves sluggishly, like he's rehearsing a fight in slow motion. "You know what Harry said when he came?" I ask. Ron knows better than to ask me what, but I can tell not-asking is harder than not-fighting. He's dying to know. His arms go slack and he stares at me with an angry, hopeless expression, and I know I've won. "He said your name."

Faster than I can see, he's got my shirt in his fists and has flipped us around so I'm against the wall and he's pressing me back hard into the brick. But I knew it was coming, so I'm ready for it. "It's true," I gasp. "He said, 'Ron.'"

I know he's not going to pummel me because even he knows at this point that's not what he wants to do. Sure enough, after a second he drops me like my shirt's burning him. His eyes are still blazing like he wants to kill me, but he takes a deep breath, steps back and says, "I'm leaving now."

I grab his arm just as he starts to turn, spinning him around, and when he's disoriented I throw my whole body forward so his back is to the wall again. He looks as scared as I've ever seen him, like I've just told him he has to get into a flying car or something. "Let me. Please, Ron."

As I expect, saying his name takes the fight out of him. He falls against the wall, eyes closing, panting hard. I really want to kiss his mouth, but I'm afraid that will leave me too breathless and he'll be able to regain control. So instead I put my hands on the wall on either side of him and lick along his jaw, and when he groans, I can feel it vibrating in his throat.

From there I encounter no resistance. Weasley lets me kiss all over his face and when I pull on his shirt to get my mouth on his chest, he helps me. He's not my type, but knowing how often Granger has him and how badly Potter wants him makes me excited that I'm the one doing this to him. His skin breaks out in goosebumps and his nipples are tight when I pinch them. As I run my tongue over one, he shivers and arches into me. I settle my hand over his cock and stroke its length through the fabric of his clothes.

As I open his trousers and fumble them down with his pants, I realize that he hasn't opened his eyes once since he gave in. "Ron," I begin.

"What." Still without looking at me. I wrap my hand around his swollen cock and slide up from the base to the tip, making him grunt and thrust into my fingers, but his lids don't even flutter.

I'm about to tell him to open his eyes, but I decide that fair is fair. I'm the one who brought Potter into this. And it doesn't bother me a bit if Weasley's thinking about him. So instead I suggest, "Why don't you call me his name."

"Fuck you." But he likes that, because his cock twitches in my hand and drips a trail of wetness over my fingers. I kneel to lick the damp slit, both hands wrapped around the bottom of the shaft.

And then inspiration strikes. "You know why Harry let me do this? Because I told him I'd done it with you."

"You fucking...!" But he never finishes the thought, because I take him all the way into my mouth and whatever he was going to say is lost in a moan. His fingers wrap themselves into my hair, as much as he can grab. He tastes like salt and fresh cut grass, and he fucks my throat like it's been too long since someone did this for him, not even slowing when I gag and my eyes water, though he does stop pushing my head down.

I lift my face, taking him out of my mouth, sliding his wet cock up and down between my hands. "Say his name."

"Fuck..."

"Say it, and I'll finish you." He's trying to thrust back into my mouth, and he still hasn't opened his eyes. I stick my index finger in my mouth and suck on it. Then I slide it around underneath his balls, leaving a trail of wet, and push it a little ways into him. He practically sobs. "Ah. Ah."

"Say it."

"Harry."

I take him back into my mouth, as much as I can swallow, and suck him hard. I can feel the big vein pressing on my tongue and his balls tight against his body. For a second he just stands there rocking, like he's trying to calm himself down. Then he thrusts up once, yelling, and fills my mouth. It's as close as I can get to having him. Them. Harry. Ron. Both.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next two days Weasley won't look at either of us, and Potter stares at me balefully like he knows whatever's wrong must be my fault. Weasley leaves the Ministry the second he's done working, and Potter stares gloomily after him. By the weekend I'm getting cranky. I don't feel guilty about Weasley -- I figure he got what he wanted -- but I do feel a bit sorry for Potter, like I took something that was by rights his.

So I try it make it up to him, right in the office after everyone else has gone home. "I know what's the matter with Ron," I announce.

Potter does his best not to look too interested. "What's that?"

"He wants you."

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

"I'm serious. He called me your name at a very critical moment."

"Right."

"It's true. Why do you think he won't talk to me? And he's embarrassed 'cause he wishes it was you." Potter makes a face at me and starts rearranging his pictures. His mum and Ginny Weasley look uncannily alike. "I'm not making it up."

"I'm too tired for this. Go home."

"What's wrong? Jealous, Potter? I wanted to do it with you too, you know."

"I'm serious, Malfoy."

"Me too." I tug him away from the pictures. He squints at me like he can't figure out what I'm up to. Time to show him. I kiss him, and he reacts just like Weasley did at first, laughing and pushing at me like it's a bloody joke.

Then he tenses up. "Malfoy, this is not a good idea." He's smiling a little, flattered and maybe a little turned on.

"Why not? Ron let me. He came in my mouth." Potter's eyes go momentarily round. I can't help grinning, even though I know that'll make him think I'm just bragging. The curiosity goes out of his eyes. "It's true. Ask him. I mean it. Ask him whose name he called me when..."

Potter isn't smiling at all anymore. His eyes are dark, almost threatening, and I realize that this is what he looks like when he's rattled. "What do you want?" he asks in a low voice, but not soft, no trace of drawl, and his hand clenches a little.

"I want you."

He laughs airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?"

" _Please_. You know you want to. You don't make comments about my pointy chin any more. I know you like the way I look." As I watch him consider that, I press close to him. "C'mon, Harry."

He doesn't resist when I take his hand off his knee and push his legs apart. His eyes have softened, but they're almost sad now. "This bothers you a lot more than you want to admit."

"What bothers me?"

"Being gay."

"I'm not!"

"Bi, then. Liking men. It's not what a good pureblood is supposed to do, is it? You're supposed to marry whatever girl from the right family your parents tell you to. That's why you need the rest of us to want it too."

"I know you want it. Not with me, maybe, but like Ron. He wanted you, I was just there, but he did it with me anyway. Every time I said your name, he twitched." I'm close now, trying to press my advantage.

I kiss him and he kisses me back gently, the way people kiss after a big fight. "Why were you saying my name?" I can't tell whether Potter thinks this is scary or simply strange. So I shrug. 

"Because it made him twitch." Potter doesn't resist when I run my hands over his chest and start unbuttoning his trousers. He's breathing fast, and when I bend my head to nibble his neck, he gives me access.

I'm almost disappointed by how easy it is. I thought maybe he'd fight it more, like Weasley did. He grabs me and whispers, "One day you're going to cross the line with the wrong person, Malfoy," but he's not that person. He lets me get his pants down and leans back to let me suck him, knees bent wide. His fingertips travel all over my back. I can't tell if he's trying to make me feel good or if he just like the way skin feels under his hands.

I roll my face to the side against his belly, taking him in my hand as I whisper, "Too bad you don't want to fuck me. Would you fuck him?"

"I can't..." What can he say to that, really? He turns his head to the side, and his cock swells, and I slide my mouth over him once more and hum as I speed up the pace. His hands slide down to my face, very gently stroking across my eyelids, over my cheekbones. I wonder if he's memorizing my face or painting someone else over me.

Potter gets noisier. "Who're you sucking?" he asks me hoarsely. "Me or him?"

"Always you." My other hand is shoved down my own pants, I'm so hard from doing this. I don't stop, just keep taking him all the way into my throat while his fingers write in secret code on my skin. Finally his hands go completely still. Just before he lets go down my throat, he lets out a long, hard breath that would be a moan if there were any sound to it, but it's all air, like a whisper. A poem with no words, but I know who it's for. Not me. Them. Harry. Ron. Both.


	4. Chapter 4

"Is either of you ever going to tell the other?"

They both glare at me, but then they look around me at each other. And they both blush.

"Look, it's not like I mind being in the middle. I think it'd be a lot of fun. But I'm starting to think you have intimacy issues."

Weasley snorts at that, and Potter coughs, and they're still looking at each other. But then after a minute they're both staring at me. "You think we have intimacy issues," Weasley chortles. "It's pretty funny. I'm the only one here with a partner."

"I'm the only one here who's talking about what's really going on."

"He's right," Potter says quietly.

Weasley glances at him in surprise. Then he looks straight at me and tilts his head toward the door. "Later, Malfoy."

"Right." I grin at both of them. Weasley is turning his eyes uneasily from Potter to me and back again, but the gloom that's been hovering over him is gone. And Potter almost looks happy. For some reason that makes me happy, and I bounce over and kiss them both on the cheek before I take off. I can hear them muttering behind me.

And then it hits me that I've done it. I've successfully extricated myself from being the buffer between Potter and Weasley. I've gotten them together. So I've pretty much guaranteed that I'm never going to have either of them again. Them. Harry. Ron. Both.

Funnily enough, it doesn't bother me. It's going to be sweet to watch, especially Weasley, whom I bet has a lot more trouble telling himself what he really wants than Potter does. This is a good thing. I've been thinking about what Potter said about what bothers me, and it's not that I like men as well as women. Maybe it's feeling like I can't talk about it with my parents, who are completely backward when it comes to things like that, but I know Potter understands that even if he doesn't have the same problem because he doesn't have parents. He's probably right that I could cross the line with the wrong person, but the person I'm planning to call right now won't do any real damage even if she does punch harder than any of the men in Weasley's family. 

Harry and Ron can have each other. I'm going to see what the best student in our year learned from the sex books in the Restricted Section, and whether what they say about Muggle-borns is true. If Hermione needs consolation, I am just the man to give it to her. Just me. Draco Malfoy. Myself.


End file.
